The Fell Clutch of Circumstance
by Sephy-Stabbity
Summary: A series of interconnected scenes exploring the life and death of Elia Martell of Dorne.


**The Fell Clutch of Circumstance  
**

She is ten years old, and her brother has already made it his duty to follow her everywhere she goes. When he is not training in the courtyard, he is there behind her, a not-so-silent shadow.

At first, Elia finds it annoying. It certainly gets in her way. For some reason, she can never find the words to tell him that to his face.

"I'll always protect you." he says, when she finally tentatively brings up the subject. And even to young Elia, he looks ridiculous, this little brother of hers, a mere babe trying to keep a solemn face as he makes his promise to her.

So she has no idea why she nods, and believes him completely.

Over the years, she gets used to having her brother around everywhere, so much that it feels like a part of her is missing whenever he goes away.

oooooo

She is barely turned sixteen, when her mother broaches the subject of Elia's marriage. From then, her life is turned into a whirl of suitors coming to and leaving Sunspear, all eager to win her hand. Elia's mother is less than overjoyed when their efforts go to waste. And downright angry when she finds out that Oberyn is the source of Elia's objections.

"I do hope you remember that you're the one getting married, not Oberyn." she remarks to Elia cuttingly, in one of their rare moments spent away from listening ears and prying eyes.

"I am not marrying any man that can't get along with Oberyn." Elia replies mildly.

Her mother draws in a sharp breath at that reply, and Elia tenses, dreading the tongue-lashing that is sure to follow.

She is surprised, therefore, when her mother only reaches out a hand, and lightly ruffles her hair.

"Sometimes I despair of the two of you." the Ruling Princess of Dorne sighs. And Elia is confused as to why her mother is smiling at her so fondly as she says those words.

oooooo

That summer, her mother tires of letting fate takes its course, and off they set to Casterly Rock, to meet the golden twins.

Oberyn is singularly unimpressed by Cersei Lannister, and manages to bed both of the ladies-in-waiting accompanying her before the night of their arrival is over. Privately, Elia thinks Jaime seems nice enough, but he is so young, and far more interested in his own reflection than in her.

Yet, she is still sad to leave the Rock when the time comes. She has grown rather attached to Tyrion Lannister. The day before they leave, she visits the sept. Oberyn, with her as always, laughs at her newfound piety, but Elia sends up a prayer to the Seven, asking them to watch over the poor child.

oooooo

"You should just marry my brother." Ashara Dayne tells her, on one of Elia's frequent visits to Starfall. "I think Arthur would satisfy even Oberyn."

"I'm sure he will." Elia replies and her meaning is not lost on Ashara.

"That would be a sight to watch." she replies, and they lapse into giggles, just as if they were ten years old again.

"You are right, though!" Elia announces suddenly. "We really should just marry each other's brothers, and settle down in Dorne, instead of triapsing all over the Seven Kingdoms looking for suitors."

"And then we could visit each other at Sunspear and Starfall and bring our children up together!" Ashara joins in.

They stay on the balcony till late into the night, watching the Dornish sun set and making up plans for a future they both know will never happen. But it doesn't hurt to dream of impossible things once in a while.

oooooo

All thoughts of Arthur Dayne and Jaime Lannister go out of her head, though, the very first time that Elia Martell sets eyes on Rhaegar Targaryen.

oooooo

_Beautiful_, she thinks to herself, as she pokes at her food without eating. _So beautiful, like a painting come to life._

"...understand why it has to be Rhaegar bloody Targaryen!" Oberyn finishes. At the mention of his name, Elia can feel her face heating up, but it is Doran who replies.

"Can you think of a better match?" he asks his brother. "Rhaegar is the crown prince. He will be king one day."

"Yes, but can he fight?" Oberyn retorts. "Can he fuck?" he continues, making crude hand gestures to illustrate, as if Elia was entirely ignorant of what was involved in baby-making.

"Just because some of us haven't fucked half of Sunspear..." Doran begins scathingly.

"He doesn't need to fuck half of Sunspear." Oberyn cuts in. "I'll hack his head off if he does that to my sister."

Elia smiles down at her plate, only half-listening. She is used to their bickering.

_Beautiful,_ she thinks again. Her prince is as beautiful as summer, with a voice to match. _He said he would write me a song._

"Well, Elia?" Oberyn demands."What is so wonderful about this dragonspawn prince of yours?"

"Treason!" Doran hisses, looking around alarmed, but they are alone in the chamber.

"What? All he does is lug around that harp of his all day." Oberyn defends himself. "I'll wager you anything he can't lift a sword to save his life."

"You're wrong." Elia corrects him dreamily "He's handsome and charming and he's a wonderful warrior. And just you wait, we'll make beautiful babies together."

"Yes, you'll make a revoltingly good-looking babies." Oberyn says, miming barfing into his plate, before unceremoniously pulling back his chair and getting up from the table.

"He doesn't mean it." Doran says unnecessarily, as they watch him leave for his morning practice. "He just doesn't like your having to leave Sunspear."

"I know." Elia says, and smiles down at her plate again.

oooooo

She had thought herself the happiest woman on Earth when she married Rhaegar. But that is nothing compared to how she feels when she first holds Rhaenys in her arms. Her daughter is still fast asleep, her eyes scrunched tight as if a bright light is shining on them. Rhaegar helps her hold the child in her arms, as Elia is still weak from the past night's ordeal.

"She looks entirely too much like you, my lady wife." her husband says, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I expect this is exactly how you must have looked like, as a babe in your mother's arms."

"We can't all be be silver dragons, my lord." she retorts, matching his teasing tone. "Perhaps you should set your hopes on the next one."

"Yes, the next one." he echoes, but there is sadness in his eyes, even as his lips smile.

Elia is too used to Rhaegar's sudden bouts of melancholy to be concerned at that. In hindsight, she thinks that maybe she should have been.

oooooo

She does not wish to go the ball. Not so soon after the tourney. She cannot bear the hushed whispers, and the glances of pity, that she knows will follow her about.

But she is the crown princess. She must go. And so she goes.

Ser Arthur Dayne accosts her as soon as she enters the dancing hall, before the curious eyes and prying mouths can even set out to find her.

He holds a hand out to her, smiling as one old friend would at another, and she accepts wordlessly. His right arm is strong around her as they whirl around the hall, and she shoots a quick grateful smile over his shoulder at his sister, who no doubt sent him over. The smile fades when she realizes that Ashara is looking back at her with the same half-concerned, half-pitying glance she has so quickly come to hate. _Will this night ever end?_

Before she knows, she has been passed from Ser Arthur's hand into another. She looks up into the eyes of her husband, eyes that she used to think were so wonderful, so expressive. _So beautiful._ Eyes that are staring down at her now in a curious mixture of remorse, defiance and concern.

They dance in silence for a while, before he softly clears his throat.

"I have hurt you." he says quietly, looking down at her.

She's silent. There is nothing to say to that, except perhaps a sharp "Really? I hadn't noticed.", and she doubts her lord husband would appreciate that.

"I am sorry for hurting you." he continues.

_Not sorry for doing what you did, however_. But she keeps that observation to herself, concentrating instead on her feet, as he guides her across the floor

It is clear from his silence as they move, that he is waiting for an answer.

"Only my pride." she lies eventually, as the melody draws to a close. "It will heal." _But not my heart, or my love for you, or my hopes and dreams for our future together._

He only hears the first, though, and is satisfied.

oooooo

It is lonely at the Red Keep. His grace her father-in-law is, by turns, charming and terrifying. Elia can never figure out where she stands with him, so instead she avoids him as much as she can. She sees Jaime Lannister sometimes, at meals and walking through the halls, but he is always silent, and moody in the knowledge that he is nothing but a glorified hostage. There is little in the man of the laughing, golden boy that she had met so long ago.

Rhaegar is absent for long lengths of time, returning chiefly to converse with his father and the Kingsguard. She thinks it is just as well that he rarely comes to see her. She does not think she could face another one of their stilted conversations. There are only so many times one can talk about the weather, and how nice the clouds outside look. She amuses herself for the most part by playing with baby Aegon, and watching Rhaenys play at being Aegon the Conqueror, as her daughter so loves to.

Still, it gets lonely at times, having no one to hold a proper conversation with. She wishes Oberyn were here, to make her laugh as only he could.

Or, in her less charitable moments, to hack off Rhaegar's head as he had once promised he would.

oooooo

Someone screams. Maybe it's her. There's fire everywhere. And blood. _So much blood._

_Aegon_, she thinks. _Rhaenys, my little conqueror._

And then all thoughts but terror go out of her head, as an armored hand lifts her up bodily.

oooooo

**A/N: **Because Elia Martell is the one character I will always, always, always stan for. Title is from the poem Invictus by William Ernest Henley.


End file.
